“She is ill, too,” was Louie’s reply.
“Well, who in thunder can I see?” was the next question, roughly spoken.
“Me!” Louie answered, with quiet dignity. “What can I do for you?”
“Pay me my two thousand dollars,” was the rude reply, which brought the hot blood to Louie’s face; but she answered calmly:
“I wish we might, but it is impossible at present.”
“Why impossible? I hear your house, with its fixin’s, is for sale. Is that so?” Mr. Sheldon asked.
“Yes, that is so.”
“And they belong to your mother, or you?”
“Yes, to mother.”
“Horses, and carriages, and all?”